The Crypt
The moon shone its cold gaze over the frozen ground of the cemetery, illuminating the headstones like silent waves over the black pebbles of a beach. The light smooth as silk washed over two figures, one was a giant of a man he had a bloodied bandage over his eyes but even through the fabric you could see a cold ice blue glow from where his eye should of been, the man was carrying a large, metal cudgel over one shoulder and a large sack over the other. He seemed to be unaware of the weight though, easily keeping stride with the smaller man who, surprisingly, seemed the more intimidating of the two. The smaller man’s cloak billowed out behind him, revealing his scrawny and ageing body, the man was obviously well into his later years of life however he walked like and had the posture of a much younger and more spry man. His hands, now revealed from the black cloak, were clawed and wrinkled with each finger having a single spark that danced around them like an exotic dancer practicing a routine over and over. Over one shoulder he carried a duffle bag swinging in time with his steps perfectly, almost as if it was being controlled to do so, in the palm of his other hand there spun a small ball of water constantly dripping off of, and then returning to, the small mass of liquid. The couple walked with the larger man leading the way to a large and old crypt that had obviously not been visited in a long time.
“we’re here” said the larger man in a surprisingly soft voice you wouldn’t expect from such a gruff looking being.
Harker reached out with his mind and found the solid stone wall then, with little effort, pushed open the heavy, stone crypt door, his duffle bag slouching heavily over his shoulder, swinging low towards the ground with a gentle rattle every time it swung.
He observed the body of the man on the floor, all battered up by his assistant outside. The man groaned as he turned himself over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes from the treatment of last night.
The duffle bag fell with a thud on the floor and Harald pulled a device from its depths, an old device that looked, at first glance, akin to a stiff mettle collar or a necklace, except for the two fork like attachments welded onto it. One facing up the other down, Harold provided to (with great difficulty) attach this to the man, still writhing in his own pain too much to notice. When he was finished the “necklace” was facing both the man’s chin and collarbone, making it impossible to move his head without drawing blood from one of these two points.
“Now” said Harker “I’m going to ask you some questions and you’re going to answer ONLY through a nod or shake of your head, do you understand?” The man nodded slightly drawing a thin trickle of blood from the space in-between his collar bones.
“Good” replied Harker as he crouched down and peered into the bloodshot, crazed, but most of all scared eyes of his latest contract,
“Then let’s begin.”
The assistant closed the door only after the man started his mental screening... and his physical screaming.
The heavy stone door heaved itself open as Harker exited the now crimson room.
“How do you like my interior decorating?” He asked with a sly smile stretching across his withered face.
“I prefer the colour blue, but I guess red looks good to” smiled his assistant as he effortlessly closed the door sealing of the room, and it’s horrifying contents, once more.
The pair walked with their backs to the crypt for some time covering miles of ground in little under an hour
“Well?” Asked Capes looking down towards Harker
" well what.” Came the smooth reply Harker’s voice cutting through the air like a silk thread,
“Well.... what did he know?” Capes responder through his knotted beard.
“He’s on the South side of Val’cathan, in the black star inn”
" I trust that’s information from his mind not just his mouth?” Inquired Capes
Harker nodded silently, looking at the warm, amber glow of the tavern in front of them. And a figure welcoming them home with a wicked smile.
That smile belonged to Jack Twoblades, his knifes smiling almost as sinisterly as Jack himself from beneath his sleeves. Jack body seemed to melt into the ground as his shadow doubled in size and slinked towards them stopping mere feet in front of them before re-assuming the physical shape of Jack, his body still flowing around him as if made from the shadows itself.
“Welcome back” said Jack his voice soft and quiet carried on the wind like an Eco from a cave.
The three men turned and walked towards the inn and headed towards its inviting glow.
The inn was a jostling place full of life... useably that life was soon to end in a brawl but it was life non-the less. Walking silently and without saying a word the three men glided across the bloodstained floor and headed up the stairs throwing a few coins on the counter as they passed. Once in their room they sat down at a table cluttered with old pieces of parchments and maps, each with a single pin forced through it highlighting a specific location the pins were one of three colours: gold, silver or crimson red. Jack offered one of each colour to Harald, Harker placed one red pin in the middle of the cemetery where he and Capes had left their… “friend” in the crypt, and a gold one to the south of the map in the middle of Val’cathan.
“He’s in the Blackstar inn, you’ll keep tabs on it for the next few days and Jack, keep to the shadows and observe only” explained Harker “Capes and I will join you later we have an…item we need to obtain first.”
“Oh?” came the whisper of Jacks voice inquisitively “And what would that item be?”
“That, old friend, is a surprise for you.” Replied Harker with a thin sly smile.
Jack nodded as he picked up his bag and dissolved into the shadows.
“so…where are we going?” inquired Cape.
“our dearly departed ‘friend’ told me it was in Azregrim”
“but that’s… the city of the dead” said Cape his voice faint and his face so white it was as if death had wraps her cold hand around his heart.
“yes, but that’s where the helm is we can’t change that” replied Harker taking a deep drink from his cup
“I know that but is it worth it?”
“why? You scared.” Scoffed Harker “don’t worry, you’re not coming with me this time, there’s a different task for you.”
Cape hugged his jet-black cloak around himself as the chilling wind bit at his skin as he sat next to his small, dying fire, its embers smouldering away in front of him. Before him laid the town of Harenae its sand towers looming in the distance.
“Damn Harker the old git” he said adding fresh fuel to the fire making it flare up into the night sky illuminating the small tent providing the only thing sheltering Capes from the cold night wind of the dessert. “Well” he thought “it’s better than being in the city of the dead. I’d rather be cold than dead”
As he sat there in the dim light of the fire (now dwindling once again) he thought about the differences of the three of them, Jack, Harker and himself. Quite the trio they made, Harker had insisted that they be well rounded as strength wisdom and sneak, personally Capes had always thought they were doing just fine with the two of them. They did it need a thief to back them up although Capes had to admit that Jack had been helpful in finding certain targets, like the man they had left in the crypt back in the graveyard. “Still” Capes thought to himself ” there’s something off about that guy... well nothing I can do about it now best to just get on with the job” with that Capes rolled onto his side a draped his cloak over himself and fell into the sweet abyss of sleep.
Chapter two: the city of sand
As soon as his eyes were closed and the night sky was filled with the sound of his snoring the bag he was usually sporting over his shoulder began to wriggle and squirm, the knot on the bag slowly becoming looser and looser until out of the bag crawled a small, three-foot-high creature with large moonlike eyes that seemed to be as blue as the oceans themselves, its arms thin and bony were curled into his chest his hands jittering as he held them up to his face in curiosity. It had been so long since he last exited the dark, gloomy confines of the bag that even his own hands looked unfamiliar to him and even the light from the glittering stars ‘weak as it was’ blinded him after so long in the pitch blackness of the sack. As this small creature adjusted to the newfound light he observed his surroundings and could only see Capes in the dim light of the now near-non-existent fire, ‘it would do nothing for him to stay out here in the cold’ the creature thought to itself and returned to the familiar warmth of the sack closing the string openings behind it. Returning the night sky to the obnoxious snoring of Capes… until it poked its hand out and, with a lazy wave, muted the noise until morning.
Capes rolled over as he woke up to the lapping of waves, he looked down to find that the water had risen to his neck the warm water lapping his chin, he opened his eyes. He looked up into a large fury face bending over him dribbling onto his chin,
" GET OFF” he tell pushing the furrure away onto its side, its four toes feet waving in the air as it tried to run off.as he sat up Capes saw a group of figures sat around his fire adding twigs and small logs to it causing it to start up again
Capes stared at the men sat around his fire ‘now rekindled and burning again’ they were clad in black robes with shrouds covering their face in fact the only part you could see were their eyes, a dazzling white standing out from the shadow of their hoods. They didn’t speak instead they collectively pointed at a spot next to them, Capes sat down. They sat without talking for what seemed like hours with only the crawling of the fire to break the silence, then the cloaked men started to hum. It started off soft at first smooth and gentle, then the pace picked up as one of the black clad figures rose from the ground and retired three small vials from his robe throwing their contents onto the fire causing a large fume of Purples and reds into the sky. By now the humming had grown into an incomprehensible chat, Capes tried to move wondering why he was still sat here and found he couldn’t ... or, more that he didn’t WANT to. He sat staring into the coloured smoke from the fire and found himself lost in their colours.
The smoke twisted and contorted into a large whirling shape. As the image calmed down it showed a large hall with great pillars towering above them holding the decorated roof above their heads, the smoke seemed to be becoming more and more solid as the fumes twisted around each other the pillars and walls becoming more and more lifelike until eventually the smoke was gone , replaced instead by stone and mortar. Capes was unimpressed. This sort of illusion was old and so easily learnt that even he could manage it with little difficultly.
" Nice trick” capes said sneering at the hooded figures
“Let me show you mine”
Capes reached out his arms spreading them as an eagle spreads its wings in the morning sun, his whole body seeming to Horowitz the further out his arms reached and , given his already imence and muscular size, made him seem a giant.
Capes reached out his arms to push the illusion away, his hands connected with the smoke and pushed... against rock...
“What the hell?” Capes murmured as he reached out and pushed again and again being met with rocks and stone. But that wasn’t the weirdest thing to capes the weird thing was that they weren’t moving when he pushed them, and he’d turned boulders to rubble without any trouble. So this was just plain un-natural. A light humming filled the air reverberating around the walls and as capes looked up he saw the figures no longer sat on the floor but on thrones of flowing silver and gold, and no longer in blackened rags they wore beautiful gowns of silk that hung down covering their feet. Capes shrunk down to his normal size and stared at them,
“What is this?” He asked, his eyes betraying both his anger and his curiosity
“Illusions like these should be able to be pushed away, so why can’t I” his voice was trembling with rage.
The voice that answered him was not one voice but the voice of all three combined in one majestic voice booming around the room in a whisper.
" this is no illusion Capes Mcraw.”
“This is real”
Capes extended his arms once more growing to twice his size, he lifted his hands above his head and grasped the cold, hard steel of his cudgel in his hands and with a roar that echoed off the smoke covered walls, threw it at the godlike figures. The heap of metal sung as it flew through the air spinning towards the thrones. The cudgel stopped with a thunk. the figure sat on the middle throne was stood, her hand elevated in front of her, a silver thread flowed from each of her fingers wrapping themselves around the cudgel, stopping it dead in its path then receded back into the woman’s elegant finger tips. The two other beings were now stood the heap of metal hovering in front of them. In one voice they spoke
“You are not strong enough”
The cudgel flew back the way it came towards Capes constantly speeding up as it travelled the short distance hitting his temple as he turned his face away from the blow.
Capes woke up with a thud as he hit the ground, looking over he saw a small foot clamber into his sack.
" damn imp and his bloodystar magic.” And fell back into the land of dreams.
The sun shone its golden glow over the dessert dunes illuminating the campsite as Capes woke up. Pulling himself up he reached out grabbing his sac tightening the knot at the top holding it close, ” damn imp” he muttered rubbing his head where the cudgel had hit him. You see, when an imp sends you into a dream they can have certain effects on you, for one they can cause non seriousness injures to the dreamer (in this case being hit by a mettle cudgel) leaving the victim hurt when they wake up with the same injures. Capes pulled himself up from the rough sand heaving the sac into his back, there was a clatter of cages as it landed on his back. “Bloody bird cages” he complained a look of defeat on his face as he started walking towards the high walls of Têrra-HaRenae
